Okay, Go
by inkonhand
Summary: Harry wants the bad boy and though it may take some coaxing, he's up for the challenge. Slash. HPDM.
1. Get Over It

Title: Okay, Go.  
Author: inkonhand  
Rating: R for language and mature content  
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG  
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. It's all JK's. And Warner Bros. And their corperate friends.  
Warnings: IT'S SLASH. Don't like, don't read.  
A/N: Yay! My first fanfic! I love reviews and so does my kitty Luther! However, he'll scratch your eyes out for flames so don't flame. This is slash, as I said. It is 2am, and I'm tired. Oy.  
-Kle 

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**Chapter 1: Get Over It**

A quill scratching against parchment was the one of the few sounds that was heard in the library of Hogwarts. The plume wavered back and forth since the owner—and author—scribbled their essay on Veritaserum as quickly as possible without using a charm or spell. Quiet clicking noises were heard before the large feathered quill was resting on the table. The quick hands lifted the parchment from the surface as their owner's green eyes darted from line to line, checking for mistakes.

"Done." The author said firmly before rolling up the paper and shoving it in their messenger bag. They stood up, and as they pushed their chair in, the shine of blond hair caught their eye before disappearing.

Harry Potter had done it.

Not only had he successfully completed the hardest essay the N.E.W.T. level class had been assigned, but he achieved what most thought was impossible.

He got a 'T'; a 'T' for Troll.

A hand belonging to his best friend, Ron, came to his shoulder. He started to say something, but was quickly drowned out by his other best friend Hermione ranting in a hushed tone.

"I can't believe you, Harry!" she started, "If you would've told me you were doing your potions essay in the library I could've helped you! I thought Fred and George were lying about the whole Troll thing but they apparently weren't! Seriously though, Harry. Come to me for help. Ron did and he got an A—"

She was rudely cut off by three snickering Slytherins behind them. The blond one was the only one to speak on behalf of the three.

"Another 'T', Potter?" Malfoy sneered, "Too bad you didn't have your owl's brain. You might've actually done a tad bit better."

Harry whipped around in his seat; his eyes were now fixed on the now howling Draco Malfoy. The brunette's hand reached inside his pocket to tightly grasp his wand, causing his knuckles to crack inaudibly.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he growled.

"Oh no! The Golden Boy wants me silent! What ever shall I do?" Malfoy replied with a fake terror-stricken voice. The other two Slytherins, Blaise and Pansy, started laughing harder but they almost as quickly fell silent after starting. Malfoy, however, kept laughing even when Potter's wand was at the ready. Ron and Hermione both had the same reaction to this act: _He's going to get himself in trouble..._

"May I reiterate myself? I said shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled, his feet now on the ground and his body now standing with an arm outstretched pointing a wand at the cackling boy. Draco and Harry soon realized why Blaise, Pansy, Ron, and Hermione were now quiet.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," a familiar voice drawled, "How nice of you to be joining me after class to discuss further dates for detention."

"But Professor, I didn't have a detention in the first place—"

"Potter, I have no tolerance for annoying rebuttals. Ten points from Gryffindor for that remark and ten from Slytherin for Draco's _disturbance_."

"Yes sir." Harry mumbled under his breath as he took his seat. His face took on a hard, annoyed expression for the rest of the class whereas Malfoy just slumped in his seat. He was just as pissed off as Harry about the detention.

"Now class, today we will be creating the Beautification Potion with partners," Snape began. Harry's hand went to Hermione's arm, knowing he needed her to be able to not only complete the potion, but to actually get a decent grade in that class—for once.

"_Assigned_ partners."

A slump seemed to go through the class because most were now looking completely bored and annoyed with the teacher's sudden distaste for even his own house.

"Parkinson and Thomas."

"Weasley and Goyle." With that, Ron rolled his eyes and let his head fall to the desk. ("He's as dumb as a rock," he had muttered quietly to the tabletop.)

"Granger and Zambini." ("I swear, if he hits on me, I'll hex him into a turtle." Hermione mumbled angrily.)

"Potter and Malfoy."

Harry zoned out after he heard the last two names together. That was not something that was going to make his day better. Sure Malfoy was excellent at potions but the bastard would never help him in any way.

"Potter! Damn it, get the ingredients."

Those words paired with the ever-so-annoying voice made Harry cringe. To make it as painless as possible, he complied to the order. The boy placed the ingredients on the table, in front of Malfoy. The blond gave Harry a sideways glare, expecting him to know what he was supposed to do.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Harry scowled.

"Get started chopping, grinding, et cetera to the ingredients." Malfoy instructed with a wave of his hand.

"What—Why me?" Harry asked, befuddlement in his voice, "Aren't you going to help?"

"I'll get the damn potion together and you just do the labour."

Surprisingly enough, Harry didn't argue back. He didn't care if it was Malfoy. The only thing he wanted was a good grade. Another detention was not on his agenda. He finished cutting, chopping, grinding, and slicing in silence as Malfoy sat next to him, admiring his own nails.

"Hey Beauty Queen, here are your bloody ingredients." Harry stepped away from the ingredients and took a seat in the other stool as to not get in Malfoy's way.

_He's going to need this Beautification Potion more than anyone…_

Malfoy glared at him as he stood up to take control of the rest of the potion. His nimble fingers quickly started working at the ingredients like he had done the potion hundreds of times before. For all Harry knew, he might've.

Who knew 45 minutes could take so long? Harry surely didn't. Most of the other pairs were working better than he and Malfoy. Glancing around the room made him catch sight of a few other pairs. Hermione was on the opposite side of the cauldron from Blaise so that she could be out of his grasp. Ron and Goyle both had the same look of confusion as each brought a hand to their head to scratch in wonder.

Harry figured he eventually fell asleep because the next thing he knew, Malfoy was jabbing him hard in the ribs with his wand.

"Get up, Potter. We're done."

The rest of the class was gone; the only people remaining in the room were him, Malfoy, and Snape.

_Great. I'm in my least favourite room with my two least favourite people ever. Oh joy._

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Snape stated blandly, "Both of you shall be joining me tomorrow night at 7pm. Yes, that's Friday night, Potter. Bring your old cleaning clothes. You'll be scrubbing cauldrons and organizing supply closets. No magic, so leave your wands in your dormitories."

"Is there a time frame this is all till?" Malfoy asked boldly.

"Why, Malfoy, got a hot date with Pansy?" Harry whispered harshly.

"You will clean till everything is clean. Meaning you might be here till midnight." Snape answered.

Harry rolled his eyes and got the cold glare from Snape along with another subtraction from house points. Both boys then retreated out of the classroom in silence. Harry was luckier that Malfoy because Ron and Hermione were waiting just outside for him.

"What's the punishment?" Ron asked.

"Spending a Friday night in that classroom with Malfoy, cleaning."

"Could be worse," Ron shrugged, "You could be… never mind. There's really nothing worse than that."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "You don't realize that Harry not only has a detention but a three foot essay for McGonagall on Animagus, a two-and-a-half foot essay on the properties of jinxes, hexes, and curses for Flitwick, and a complete star chart for Trelawney all due Monday."

"Hermione, he's going to end up copying it mostly from you anyways." Ron stated bluntly.

"And what if I don't let him?"

"You will." Ron and Harry both chimed together. She was all too predictable.

"Besides," Harry explained, "I'm not as concerned about my homework as trying to survive a possible five hours with Malfoy."

Ron almost choked on his own spit. "Fi-five hours!"

"Yeah. It bloody well screws up the Wizard's Chess Tournament with you guys."

"We can get it done at dinner. Hermione, Dean, and Ginny are horrible at it. That takes care of half the tournament." That remark earned Ron a glare from Hermione.

"There's always Saturday," Hermione added, "And Sunday."

"True." Harry shrugged. He was wholly displeased with his new Friday night activities with his fellow detainee.

Friday night came soon enough. Harry was dreading every second closer to it. He refused to look at the clock, but yet his eyes were drawn to it. And it seemed to be in every classroom he was in with the Slytherins; Malfoy was always in the direct line of eyesight from Harry to the clock. It was almost by fate.

During those classes, Harry found himself looking at Malfoy closer as if checking out the competition. The boy's hands were long and slender, perfect for adding the perfect amount of ingredients to potions. His hair was pristine, not a hair out of line but yet it was falling just right to give him appeal.

_Must be the Beautification Potions he probably makes daily._

Draco's eyes were a pure shade of silver, making Harry wonder how genetics could even do that. His skin was surprisingly flawless and pale, but there was a very slight tint to his cheeks. Then his lips looked so soft it made Harry curious to how soft they actually were.

_Wait. What the fuck am I thinking?_

7 o'clock finally rolled around and Harry's dinner was settling horribly in his stomach. He wondered if it was what he ate, his nervousness, or the mildew down in the dungeons. Whatever it was made him uneasy as he entered the dingy classroom to find Malfoy already in there with Snape.

"And Potter finally decides to show up," Snape sneered, "Malfoy will brief you on what your task is. I will not be attending this detention because I don't feel the need to punish myself."

He exited the room to leave the two boys looking at each other in disgust.

"Alright Potter," Draco snarled, "You clean the cauldrons and I'll organize the potions cabinet."

Harry raised an eyebrow before asking arrogantly, "And what if I don't want to clean the cauldrons?"

"Then we're not leaving here until class on Monday, Scarhead." Draco snapped back.

"Fine, Ferret." Harry replied grudgingly. Malfoy did have a point; he did _not_ want to be stuck in here longer than necessary. Harry picked up a scrub brush from Snape's desk before setting to work to the cauldrons. Malfoy had headed over to the cabinet already and was removing all the bottles from their shelves.

About forty-five minutes into their task, Harry was leaning into one of the larger cauldrons, his entire upper torso inside. He had stopped hearing the soft clinking of vials together and started to hear faint laughter. Draco's laughter. From inside the cauldron, Harry asked, "What's so funny?"

"You should've grabbed the scrubber with the handle, dimwit."

Harry felt himself grow seven shades of red. How did he miss it? Why didn't Draco tell him earlier? Why was he _blushing_?

"Can you get it for me?" he asked kindly.

"Nope, sorry, I'm busy." Harry started to hear the soft clinking again as Draco purposefully started back to work, forcing Harry to get his head out of the cauldron to go get it. His hair was now sporting a few patches of leftover Forgetfulness potion goop as he walked over to the desk to retrieve the brush. Draco was containing his laughter to the point he was shaking. Harry sighed and started scrubbing easier than before. He glanced up to notice Draco's slender, nimble fingers placing each individual vial carefully into its place on the shelf. He looked so much cleaner than Harry felt and—most likely—looked. A huge, bitter jealousy was festering in Harry toward Draco upon many topics.

_Why is he so much cleaner than me? How come I always get stuck with the labouring job when I'm with him? This sucks. He also gets the perfect hair, the perfect hands, perfect lips, and he's going to end up a Death Eater! What a waste! I don't get this kid. I need the Potions grade more than him. An Auror needs this grade. He's going to kill people. He doesn't need this class._

"Potter?" Draco asked sourly, breaking Harry's chain of thoughts, "What the hell are you thinking about? You have the stupidest face on ever."

Harry soon realized that he wasn't lying for once. He replaced the dumb expression with one of complete boredom. "Nothing," he mumbled, hoping Malfoy would hear.

"What an idiot…" Harry heard Draco mutter and as he glanced up, he noticed Draco slipping something into his pocket. Something appearing to be a vial, or two.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry asked in an annoyed tone, stupidly initiating another conversation.

"What? Who, me?" Draco answered as innocently as possible.

"Stop acting like an idiot. I saw you slip the Beautification Potion and something else in your pocket."

"It's none of your business, Potter, to what I'm doing," Draco's innocent tone dropped right away and his voice was dark and cold.

"It may not be my business, but once the rumour mill is started about Draco Malfoy sneaking Beautification potion out of the potions cabinet, it'll be your business." Harry smirked.

"Not if I hex you." Draco snarled back.

"Not if we weren't to bring our wands tonight." Harry continued to smirk. He noticed Draco to mouth the words, 'Oh shit,' and have the face to go with it.

"Fine. What do you want me to do for you?" he said with a slight groan in his voice.

"Help me in potions."

"In your wildest dreams."

"'And so I heard Draco Malfoy really looks like a giant flobberworm if it weren't for the Beautification Potion,'" Harry mocked in a high pitched tone before lowering it down to his own, "Get over it. You know you want to."

"I know I don't want to. But fuck. Fine. I'll do it." Draco agreed with a sigh of defeat. His voice suddenly snapped, "But I'm only helping you in class. No out-of-class help."

"That's what Hermione's for, dumbass." Harry retorted.

_But I'll make you want to help me out of class. And not just with potions, either._


	2. Don't Ask Me

Title: Okay, Go.

Author: inkonhand

Rating: R for language and mature content  
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG  
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. It's all JK's. And Warner Bros. And their corporate friends.  
Warnings: IT'S SLASH. Don't like, don't read.  
A/N: Second chapter! So soon! I get bored really easily. Settlement does that to you (especially when you don't have any visitors for the first two hours…). I apologize for the horrible ending in the last chapter. At least, it sucked to me. I should've edited it earlier… rawr. Anyway, on to Don't Ask Me!

Dedication: I dedicate this chapter to popsicles because they rock my socks.

- Kle

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**Chapter 2: Don't Ask Me**

_Pale wrists struggled beneath Harry's strong hands as they tried to break away from the bathroom wall. The rest of the body was fairly calm compared to the arms. Harry's hostage not only had pale wrists, but his chest was just as pale. A lean stomach and chest were exposed from the unbuttoned shirt._

"_Are you trying to escape?" Harry asked deviously._

"_I'm trying to get to you," the voice replied. It was the voice Harry loved to hear. Whether it was enthusiastic or sarcastic, it was music. However, this time, it was strained, for their body was finally trying to move._

_Harry refused to let his captive go. He kept leaning closer and closer and the nearer he got, the slower the prisoner thrashed about. In a few moments, Harry's face was centimeters from the pale glorious visage in front of him. The brunette could feel his captive's warm, steady breathing on his lips, causing him to feel a tangled sensation down in the pit of his stomach. His emerald eyes were parallel with the silver orbs he wished to get lost in. But this was not the time._

_Suddenly Harry felt strong, needy, soft lips upon his own, making him release his prey's wrists. Delicate blond hair tickled Harry's forehead as Draco's hands came to his unruly brown hair—_

Harry sat up with a jolt, his eyes focusing on where he was. A couple of voices seemed to be calling his name.

"Harry! Oh, Harry, are you alright! When you fell forwards into your food we thought you might've passed out! Harry! Say something!" Hermione's frantic sentences made Harry realize that he fell asleep in the Great Hall—and soon fell into his muffin.

"Harry! What time did you get back from detention last night?" Ron asked, not as worried as Hermione, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.

"Mmmf…" Harry replied, wiping the muffin crumbs off his face, "I don' know. Two-ish?"

"We have a game today, Harry! Against Slytherin! And you didn't get enough sleep!" Ron sounded like he was about to burst. Ever since he had gotten onto the team, Ron had been obsessing about it more than all the other teammates combined. He acquired the nickname "Mother Owl" by the rest of the team; he didn't know that though. "Why didn't you think before you got yourself into detention!"

_Oh jeez. Now he's starting to sound like Hermione…_

"Look, it was an initial reaction. You would've jumped him instead of what I did. I didn't lay a hand on him or hex him! At least I didn't earn a detention during the game. Be glad about that." Harry argued back. The slight yawn that escaped his mouth did not help his case at all. "Besides, those cauldrons are really hard to clean out."

Ron turned his nose upwards and crossed his arms; something he would have _not_ done if their Quidditch game wasn't at stake. "If you would've just let Hermione help you—"

"Lay off it, Ron!" Harry interjected, his voice almost yelling. He stood up hastily and huffed out of the Hall. He would have enough energy for the game. Since when was Ron _that _concerned about Harry's sleep?

_Since he's been trying to earn Hermione's heart. Which has been forever._

On his way toward the stairs, Harry ran into Draco—quite literally. It was apparent that the boy had overslept due to his disheveled look. Harry was toppled over by Draco's force and fell to the floor, with Draco coming down with him.

Draco propped himself up to see who he knocked over.

"Ugh! Potter!" Draco said with disgust as he quickly picked himself up off Harry.

Harry lifted his hand, gesturing for Draco's help to stand up. The blond gave Harry a confused look as he said, "I only help you with Potions. Get up."

Harry rolled his eyes and slowly lifted himself off the floor. Draco was taking his time brushing himself off and fixing his appearance.

"So," Harry began, trying to start a short conversation with Malfoy, "How's it been going?"

Draco stopped moving before setting a cold glare at Harry. To match the glare, he snarled, "Don't ask me how I've been. I want to talk to you as little as possible."

And with that, he stormed off down the corridor toward the Great Hall for breakfast, leaving Harry standing there by himself. He rolled his eyes and continued on his way to the seventh floor.

#(&)#

Harry entered the locker room with a yawn. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Ron was right about the little amount of sleep. He took a nap back in the dormitory, but it seemed as though that made him more tired.

He opened his locker to find his Firebolt, Quidditch robes, and other paraphernalia. Upon removing his broom first, he noticed he hadn't been repairing it regularly; bristles were sticking out, the handle was dulling, and the cushioning spell was wearing down. Harry sighed heavily before taking out his broomstick servicing kit. He placed his broom down on the floor like a delicate child, and then took a seat in front of it with the kit in his lap.

Harry worked hastily in silence before one voice could be heard complaining about something. He turned his head in the direction of the voice. As it got louder, he could start making out what they were saying.

"…So he ran into me! Pulling me down onto the floor and making it look like I was the one running. What an idiot, Potter is… Oh, hello _Potter_." Malfoy spat out Harry's surname like a foul taste in his mouth. Harry peered upward over his glasses at the tall boy and his cronies. Instead of fighting back, he turned his attention back to his broomstick as he clipped off the stray bristles.

"Can't say anything back, Potter?" Draco mocked, "Did you cut out your tongue with the broom clippers? What a shame…" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled deeply as Malfoy motioned for them to follow him to the other side of the locker room.

_What an ass, _Harry thought, _Seems as though he has enough energy for the game._

He let out another yawn and examined his broom, which now looked a lot better. Harry picked himself and the broom up off the floor. As he did, he glanced over at Draco who just let out a huge yawn.

_Guess he's not as awake as he lets on._

Harry took a seat on the bench, letting his broom rest against the lockers. His eyes looked down the row to Malfoy, who was changing out of his sweater and button-down shirt. His tall figure wasn't gawky and skinny at all; he was very lean and had toned muscle, just like Harry did. Quidditch paid off, big time.

_He looks exactly how he did in my dream… he's just as beautiful as I imag—what! What am I thinking!_

And at that thought, Harry withdrew his attention from Draco and back to his robes in his locker. He stood up, first removing his school robe and replacing the Quidditch robe with it. He laid the gold and scarlet robe down on the bench along with his glasses, and then proceeded to remove his sweater and shirt. As he stripped off his button-down shirt, he felt like someone was watching him. Shrugging it off as just a ghost passing through, he put on a useless t-shirt he brought with him from the Dursley's. It was about six sizes too big, but it was under his Quidditch uniform. He put on his glasses, and as he did, from the corner of his eye he saw Draco's head turn back to look into his locker. Harry smirked.

_Not as innocent as we seem, Draco? Or are you just checking out the competition?_

Harry felt lucky because as he removed his pants, the shirt covered his entire torso down to mid-thigh. He quickly pulled his Quidditch pants on and got his shin and arm guards on. By the time he was getting his plated shoes on, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were finished.

"Don't fall asleep out there, Potter. Don't make it that easy for me." Draco sneered and as he walked by, he whapped Harry on the side of the head. Ron happened to show up right as Draco and the goons were leaving. Draco and Ron bumped shoulders and Draco gave Ron a cold stare. Ron rolled his eyes before rushing over next to Harry.

"I'm going to be so late getting on the field," Ron panted, "Hermione kept wanting to discuss the physics of Quidditch to me. I don't even know what physics is!" He tore open his locker and his broomstick, broom servicing kit, robes, and cleats all fell on top of him in one avalanche; Harry couldn't help but laugh.

Ron removed the pair of pants that seemed to have settled themselves on his head before saying in an annoyed tone, "It's not that funny, Harry."

"Yes it is!" Harry laughed.

"Well, instead of just sitting there laughing, can you pick up the servicing kit while I change?"

Harry finished laughing, and then responded, "Sure."

Ron was either very fast at changing, or Harry was still very tired. In no time, Ron and Harry were both ready to go out to the field to the rest of their team.

#(&)#

"Alright. I want a nice, clean game today," Madam Hooch instructed as all the students mounted their broomsticks, "No magic, no hexing, and no horse-play."

She blew her whistle and tossed the quaffle up into the air. Fourteen brooms rose high into the air, followed by two bludgers and the golden snitch. Katie Bell got a hold of the quaffle and almost as soon as she did, Lee Jordan was off commentating.

"And Bell has first possession of the Quaffle! I'm amazed at how quick she is, but she has yet to figured out that she should be dating me—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry Professor. And now Johnson has the quaffle—ach —and a bludger to the side from Goyle—Warrington now has possession, flying past Spinnet and Bell—he passes to Montague—intercepted by Alicia! You go girl! She's one of the best players Gryffindor has had in years—And Fred Weasley saves Alicia from a bludger hit! I always knew he had a thing for her—sorry Professor. Stick to the action, I know. And Gryffindor scores! 10 to zero, Gryffindor lead!"

_Finally, something worth hearing, _Harry thought. He peered down at the action below him, watching Bletchley throw the quaffle back into play to Pucey. Not too far up above the goal posts, was Draco Malfoy, searching for the snitch. He looked very lost and confused, but Harry wasn't watching him look absent-mindedly around. He saw a glitter of gold right behind the boy.

Harry dove quickly, the wind rushing past him. His hands clutched his broom tightly, as to not slip off because, at the angle he was diving at, he should've. As he neared Draco and the snitch, he heard Lee yell, "And Crabbe has just hit a bludger toward Malfoy and Harry! Let's hope it hits Malfoy—"

His eyes shifted and Lee was not lying, a bludger was coming, and coming fast. Apparently, Malfoy heard it too, because both dove out of the way as George came by with his bat to knock it skyward.

"Lucky you have halfway decent Beaters, Potter. Too bad they're Weasleys." Harry heard Malfoy sneer. He wasn't interested in what Malfoy had to say.

"—And Warrington passes to Pucey—Pucey to Montague—Montague back to Pucey—Pucey throws for a goal… Saved by Ron Weasley! I knew that kid had it in him! Must get it from his brothers—And Bell has the quaffle—she passes to Alicia—Alicia to Katie again—Katie throws it to Angelina—Intercepted by Warrington. And now Pucey has the quaffle—and hit in the head by a bludger!—Angelina has the quaffle again—throws to Katie—and intercepted _again_ by Montague—Montague to Warrington—Warrington to Montague—Montague scores—70 to 50, Slytherin lead…"

The last two words made Malfoy start laughing. Harry's eyes narrowed, but after watching Draco's jaw drop open and his eyes closed, he knew the boy didn't have much energy.

_You can't fool me. Especially with that great yawn you just did…_

Harry flew up higher into the sky, but apparently he had just gained another shadow—Malfoy. He stopped and looked at Malfoy. Harry scowled, "What do you want?"

"The snitch," Draco smirked before flying at full speed toward the glittering ball ahead of him. Harry took off after him, trailing just at the blonde's coat tails. He was gaining speed faster than Malfoy was, letting him come up next to the boy, arm outstretched. They were neck-and-neck, and from below, Harry heard Lee commentating like wildfire.

"—Johnson passes to Spinnet—Spinnet to Johnson—and a bludger to Angelina! I'll get you later, Goyle! I swear to it—oh, and Fred has just hit a bludger at Goyle! Gryffindors have so much spunk—"

Both boys had their arms outstretched, their fingers brushing against each others. Every time that happened, Harry felt a surge go through his body. He had no idea Draco's hands were that soft; it was like acid on his skin. They were nearing the snitch, Draco's long fingers outstretching Harry's. Harry kept his eyes on the snitch, but he quickly felt Draco's fingernails touch the back of his hand. He suddenly felt the cold metal of the snitch on his palm.

"And Bell has the quaffle and she's going toward the Slytherin goal without disruption—score for Gryffindor!—it's now tied, 70 to 70—wait! I lied! It's 220 to 70, Harry has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

Harry had caught the snitch and flying down to the soft grass to meet the rest of the team. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws had erupted into cheers as he made his victory fly downwards. The Slytherins sat repugnantly annoyed in their seats, not saying a word.

Draco followed Harry down to the ground, where he joined his own team silently. This time, it was Harry's turn to smirk.

"Malfoy," Harry called, Draco's eyes looking up solemnly, "I hear there's an opening in the first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw flying class. Maybe you can go there to work on your flying skills."

Harry watched in amazement as Draco's eyes widened then drop at his comment. He felt a warm feeling in his chest. He didn't know what it was. Draco soon regained his composure as he scowled and walked away with his team. Harry just stood there watching the mass of green walk away.

_So this is how it feels to successfully insult someone… Or to be crushed by their hopeless expression._

"Harry! C'mon!" Alicia poked him to join them in putting their hands in for a cheer.

"Alright." Harry agreed, placing his hand on top of hers along with a fake smile on his face.

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A/N: Good? Bad? REVIEW! …Pweez? For Kle?


	3. You're So Damn Hot

Title: Okay, Go.  
Author: inkonhand  
Rating: R for language and mature content  
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG  
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. JK does. And Warner Bros. And their corporate friends.  
Warnings: THIS IS SLASH. Don't like, don't read. Besides, if you are already on the third chapter, I think you would've figured that out by now…  
A/N: Thanks for all of you who have replied already! I'm amazed! glomp (glomp: _verb_- tackle hug) Anyway, this chapter might seem a little strange because I'm basically writing it over a week (me, not the story). Pardon my dust! If you want to ask me something about the story, tell me something you want to see in the future, or have a personal question for me (not to personal, please), e-mail me at happylaughter1 (at) aol (dot) com.  
Review responses:  
**cgflower: **I think the reason there's so much eye-rolling is that I do that… too much. But I can assure you that it's not going to be as much as last chapter.  
**Linari Tanis:** Of course there's more! I'll just tell you that you can expect more than—(bus drives by). I think that's a lot!  
**Zackery Faelen: **I love pitiful!Draco. He's so adorkable.  
**andybear09: **I know it's going REALLY slow, but I want to drag this out as long as possible. I don't think the words so much hurt Draco but shock him. I don't know. You don't really know what's going on in Draco's head in my story. Sorry! Hope you like this chapter a little bit more.  
**And for the rest of you: **HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER!  
Dedication: This is dedicated to my friend Nikki who just fell in love with my favourite music group.  
- Kle

Side note: It's really awkward writing slash while listening to "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" from Rocky Horror Picture Show…

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**Chapter 3: You're So Damn Hot**

Music was blaring out of Seamus's radio as the Gryffindors danced and ate the night away. Their victory not only beat Slytherin in Quidditch, but they were now second in the house ranking—one place above Slytherin (Hufflepuff beating them by too many). This was definitely something to party about. However, one person didn't feel too much like partying.

Harry.

He seemed not to be having a fun time. Ginny tried to get him to dance with her (or kiss her, either way), but he just sat in the armchair nearest the windows, pensive. He didn't know what to think about the game. He knew he had caught the snitch in a record time for him, but what if Draco let him win?

_He didn't. It's Malfoy, remember? He's obsessed with winning. That's impossible._

But then again, Draco didn't bump him out of the way.

_He did it on purpose! He let me win! But… how?_

Before the party even ended, Harry swiftly and quietly dismissed himself. No one (except Ginny) seemed to have been paying attention to him. Even Ron and Hermione weren't by him. As Harry got to the first step of the stairs, he turned back to look at the mass of celebrating people. He noticed a red-haired boy kiss a bushy-haired girl on the cheek.

_You go, Ron._

And with that, he headed up the stairs to a very uneasy slumber.

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The next morning, Harry had a plan.

His dreams weren't all just dreams. Sometimes, he felt like his brain was hatching plans in his sleep, and if he were paying attention, he'd catch them. This was most of the time not the case. But the plan that night worked.

After such a long day, Harry had definitely overslept. He was so exhausted from the Quidditch game and the lack of sleep beforehand.

He hastily got dressed and made it down to lunch with the rest of the students. He took a seat with Ron and Hermione while they gave him questioning looks. Harry started piling things from in front of him onto his plate, he was so hungry. It was at this point that they decided to say something.

"Um, Harry," Ron spoke up, "You just took pumpkin juice and poured it over your pasta."

"Yeah, and?" Harry asked.

"Never mind." Ron sighed before picking at his own food with a fork.

"Obviously he's in a hurry," Hermione stated to Ron and caught his attention by jabbing him with her spoon, "To what, I don't know."

"Hogmea," Harry replied, his mouth full of food.

"What?"

"Hermione, I think he said Hogsmeade."

Since it was still the weekend, the Hogsmeade visit was still in order. Harry's dream was going to come true. Fortunately, he knew it was going to work. Unfortunately, he had to wait. They didn't leave the school until 3pm, and it was only 12pm. He was going to be very impatient.

As soon as Harry had finished lunch, he rushed back out of the Great Hall. Climbing the stairs up to the seventh floor (where the Gryffindor Tower was) was more like leaps and bounds. His excitement was building with every heartbeat.

Harry got to the dormitory room and began stuffing items into a worn-out backpack.

_Money, jacket, gloves, scarf, Invisibility Cloak… you know, the little things._

He started laughing briefly to himself as he let the silvery cloth pour into the bag. He zipped up the scarlet backpack and flopped back onto his bed.

_I might as well take a nap before I go._

_-----------------------------------------------------_

_The light in the pub was not very bright, but yet there was a feeling of joy and laughter in Harry as he sat at a booth with a young man across a small wooden table. It was hard for him to make out a face, but there were two hands on the table. Two familiar hands._

_Harry's rough hands grasped the shaking pale hands that were hopelessly lying on the table. He took one in each hand sweetly before bringing his eyes to the silvery ones across from him. They were the only things that Harry could make out from the other person at his table._

"_Why are you shaking?" Harry asked the man._

"_I've never been this close to you," he replied._

"_Yes you have! I remember—"_

"_Not like this." And with that, the man leaned forward, his magnetic attraction bringing Harry forward as well. As they came closer, Harry could finally see who was with him._

_Draco._

_And as his lips touched the lovely pink ones of Draco, he thought of nothing more in the world than that moment._

Green orbs fluttered open and a smile crept across Harry's face. That was just the dream he had been waiting for. One that didn't leave him stressed. He was beginning to realize his dreams could actually mean something.

He rolled over, his smile still plastered on his face. He noticed Dean's alarm clock read 2:53pm. Only one thought rolled through his head.

_Oh shit._

Quickly pulling his trainers on, Harry grabbed his backpack and was on the go. He had 7 minutes to get down seven flights of stairs and out the door to make it with the rest of the group.

Banisters and correctly moving staircases came in very handy as Harry flew down the stairs in a rush. About two staircases to go, Harry almost lost his balance and put a hand on second year Ravenclaw boy who just about collapsed under Harry's weight. Harry passed them by before yelling to the boy, "Thanks!"

The staircase marathon had ended and Harry had a couple corners to go around before getting to the group. He checked his watch in a straight-away and he had 2 minutes.

_Great. I'm going to be late._

He picked up the pace as he rounded the last corner and—

WHAM.

Harry had run right into Goyle and ended up on the floor. Draco emerged from behind the large boy, smirking. His arms were crossed, his body language basically laughing at Harry's position.

"Well look what we have here. Harry Potter who can't seem to stay on his own two feet," he sneered. Harry shook his head and glared at Malfoy as he stood up from his awkward situation on the ground. He didn't care what Malfoy had to say; he was in time for the trip to Hogsmeade.

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The springtime atmosphere of Hogsmeade welcomed Harry with open arms. It was a huge change from the dreary halls of Hogwarts any day. The shops had most (if not all) of their spring merchandise outside and inside their shops. Harry wandered in amusement at a few of the store windows (Madam Malkin's Robes was selling short sleeved robes. Harry was very confused.). One of the more popular bookstores was selling signed copies of an obscure book for a sickle and a knut.

_Hermione would probably read that. Hell, she probably has._

Many students were gathered in Honeydukes for the huge candy sale. He noticed Crabbe and Goyle leaning against the doorframe on either side like bouncers.

_Malfoy must be in there. What dimwits._

A lovely breeze blew down the alley as Harry passed shop after shop until he heard a jingle of a bell that caught his attention. His eyes briefly saw the glimmer of blond hair and the flow of black robes.

_Draco._

Harry peered upwards at the sign above his head to read what place Malfoy had led him to. The wooden sign swayed slightly as the wind blew it back and forth, but he still caught the recognizable words and a familiar picture of a severed pig.

The Hog's Head.

He entered the shop with caution, hoping Malfoy would not see him. Lucky enough for Harry, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry took a couple steps inside the pub, and almost as soon as he did, he saw a slender, pale hand lift up a glass as steel grey eyes inspected the dirt. Harry's eyes widened and he quickly took a seat in an empty booth with a perfect view of the blond beauty.

Everything was happening like déjà vu. The middle-aged witch came to his table and growled, "What d'you want?"

"A butterbeer, thank you." And Harry promptly removed his own mug from his backpack. He was not going to forget about the lack of cleanliness like Draco apparently had. The witch glared at his crystal clean glass as she snatched it from the table. He could hear her mumbling about "no-good-rotten-rude-bloody teenagers" as she ambled away.

Harry leaned back in the booth with his leg propped up on the remainder of the bench. His eyes were locked on the gorgeous, perfect boy seated upon such a filthy throne at an even lesser feasting table.

_How could such perfection lower himself down to this? I would go over there and demand everything to be spotless if they knew how incredibly amazing he—oh bloody hell. I got to get the cloak out._

He momentarily detected the witch returning to his table with his mug of butterbeer and scrambled for his paper and quill along with his favourite treasure, his Invisibility Cloak. His handwriting was shaking due to his nervousness about the plan.

_What if she keeps it? What if he doesn't read it and just throws it away? What if he can't read it? Why can't I write well in the first place? Why am I thinking this much?_

The witch sneered at him as he finished writing the note. He handed it to her and she raised a questioning eyebrow. Harry placed his quill down before explaining, "Give this note along with this butterbeer to the blond boy at the bar."

She seethed and glared at him as her hands seized the mug and note from Harry. The witch trudged away in Draco's direction and Harry watched her almost slam the mug down on the bar counter in front of Draco.

Draco gave a very confused look at the witch, then to the butterbeer. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it as she forced the note upon him. Harry watched intently as Draco opened the parchment and scanned it hurriedly. The witch said something to Draco that made him turn to Harry's direction. He saw Malfoy mouth 'thank you' and the witch sauntered into the back room.

The boy's nimble and slender fingers touched the glass and Harry's heartbeat grew a tad bit faster. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a swallow of the warm liquid. Harry's breathing hitched as he observed Draco slowly lick his pink lips of the excess fluid. He wished it was he who was removing the tasty drink from Draco's lips…

Malfoy took more gulps of the drink and Harry was too good of a viewer. As Draco grasped the mug, he saw the muscles in the blonde's hand tighten around the glass. Either that or Harry's imagination was running away with Draco to a distant land where there were daisies and no clothing…

His imagination clearly brought him too far because sooner than later, Draco Malfoy had finished pressing his lips to Harry's mug. The liquid was gone in the mug. But Harry did notice Draco writing something onto the parchment. Harry could only guess what he was writing.

_It's probably a note to the bartender to start cleaning up at this place._

The boy then stood up from the stool. He brushed off his cloak to make sure none of the dirt from the bar stool got on him. He placed a handful of sickles on the bar and carefully extracted the parchment from beneath them along with taking the mug with him.

_Or not._

Draco turned quick on his toes and was walking straight to Harry's table. Harry's eyes widened as the perfect boy came closer and closer to his booth. Harry had to close his eyes before they popped out of their sockets with shock.

Soon, he didn't hear any more footsteps. But there was a quiet thud against the table. And the voice. The perfect voice said with amusement, "I know you're here."

More footsteps and the jingle of the doorbell were finally heard and Harry opened his eyes. He pulled back the Invisibility Cloak and looked at his table now. The mug was placed on top of the folded scrap parchment. Harry seized the mug gently and put it back into his bag before picking up the note. He unfolded it and read his own shaky handwriting.

_You're so damn hot._

He sighed heavily.

_All that hard work and nothing, _he thought.

Gathering all his things together, he painfully folded the note again and shoved it into his pocket. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped upon by the old hag witch who pointed him out to Draco.

_This was not at all how the plan was supposed to go… Damn dreams._


End file.
